Making up for lost years Essay

Making Up for Lost Years
No three sounds go better together than the whish of neon orange fly fishing line, the effortless trickle of water rushing over smooth, washed rocks, and the crisp click of aluminum followed by seething bubbles of Keystone Light. Following my first gulp of bitter, watered-down, and cheap brew, I saw my brother down river casting into the “honey hole”, with ambitions of catching a prized steelhead salmon. His slender figure was silhouetted behind shafts of light prodding through towering furs that line the river. 27 winding miles away from cell phone service our afternoon of fishing the Yellow Bottom River concluded early, cold, fishless, and slightly drunk. Yellow Bottom River is riddled with the scars of heavy machinery. Trees carelessly sawed down peppered throughout the banks. The remains of 1.5-inch steel dredge cables with edges frayed like an elderly woman’s long silver hair blowing in the wind. The deepest section of the river is only about 8 feet and at it’s widest point only about 40ft. The river lives in a deep valley dug to bedrock by 1960’s gold miners. Evan and I made the hike up the lush valley walls, gathering firewood along the way. Our home for the night was a classic lean to shelter with one horizontal support professionally built as if Bear Grylls himself constructed it. My brother’s knife blade rode the edge of the steel, it shot gunned embers into the kindling doused with lighter fluid, igniting amber flames. Within a matter of minutes we were dry and warm, and no longer cared that our hours of fishing were for nothing.

My culinary skills may be keen in a standard kitchen but cooking over a primitive fire pit and being slightly intoxicated make grilling sirloin steaks in the woods quite difficult. From Pokémon to 1 on 1 driveway basketball Evan and I have always had weird rituals and traditions, and grilling steak while camping is certainly one. The crimson tipped flames poked the bottom of the steak overcooking the edges while the interior was still too pink to be safe. To the right of my grilling station buried in the coals was a boiling can of Campbell’s hearty potato soup. That night’s dinner consisted of steak, soup, a peanut butter sandwich, half a box of dill Triscuits, and cheap cinnamon whiskey to wash it all down. The perfect meal. Nights like this make me forget our rocky past. A week before my 13th birthday my brother and I lost touch for a period of years when my parents asked him to leave our house. After several warnings with no compliance he continued to abuse drugs. I vividly remember the tennis match of my dad’s raspy voice at its loudest volume and my brother trying to mimic the frightening tone of voice. My mom held me trying to cover my ears with her small hands because she knew this was devastating to me, my role model, my best friend, my brother, using drugs and moving out. We weren’t allowed to talk to each other for weeks. That harrowing day will be with me forever. Years later we sit around an opalescent fire, full stomached, listening to the crackling wood and river’s gurgle. My iPhone blasted our mutually favorite band Modest Mouse out of its scratchy speaker and we rocked out the air guitar and attempted to match the unique and croaky voice of the lead singer, something that we’d never do sober. The drinks kept coming and conversation got easier. We reminisced past vacations, laughed at each other’s childhood awkward stages, talked about how revolutionary the Game-Boy Color was to our lives, etc. We both wished we could go back to the simple, worriless,…

Related Documents: Making up for lost years Essay

Lost in the big apple
I came from The Republic Democratic of Congo in November 2000. In a program called diversity visa lottery, the program that the US government organize each year and many country are eligible to apply for that lottery; consequently, 50,000 people come into the US every year with their family. I was among the lucky person to come in the US with that program.
I was living with my brother and my sister in law in Manahan, in their apartment.
Arrived on Friday evening in New York…

see this with the demise of Gaelic language and the discrimination of Irish from the English. When communities give up their values and the practices are not being adopted by future generations we see the loose of a cultural heritage.
Native communities are also being forced by governments to immerse themselves into urbanized settings. This is the true reason why we have lost so many native languages; it is what we as a population have done to ourselves. We can clearly see this right here in…

A Pebble For Every Lost Memory
When the time comes we all are left with a pile of memories. He was left with a pile of pebbles; they just sat there gathering dust. Knowing that they meant something he let them, what he didn’t know was what they meant.
Amanda
Ezra Parkes was not an easy resident. He complained and fussed and never took his medication. I’ll never understand why I got put in charge of him; I annoy easily and can’t keep my temper. The amount of arguments Ezra and I have had…

There are time when all stakeholders opinions need to be collated and thorough self evaluation needs to be conducted before a decision can be made. This is true of our annual Improvement Plan which ideally reflects a common philosophy. Every year at least three areas need to be identified for improvement and then actioned. If I was to undertake this on my own then I risk portraying a very limited view of the service and miss possible areas for development.
I start this process by asking…

Lost Lake
Every year for as long as I can remember my family has visited one of the most beautiful places in Surprise Valley. Getting to the lake is a always a challenge, however. The road to get to Lost Lake is about twenty miles away from the main town in Surprise Valley. After going uphill for four miles to get to the turn to go towards Lost Lake, the road becomes so rocky it is almost unbearable in a vehicle.
The scenery around Lost Lake is a thing of beauty. Small creek going through…

February 20, 2015
English 102
Mr. Dornton
Lost but Never Forgotten
In the story Sonny's Blues by James Baldwin, the reader gets to experience a life that those who are living it may wish was just a dream. Growing up in the projects, two men, Sonny and his older brother, fight through a battle that is nearly impossible to win. They suffer a great deal of pain and loss and live through events that would likely kill your average human being. For some who grew up like these brothers did, the day they are…

Willis 2
Terrence Willis
College Comp. 1 (11:00am)
Professor Stanley
Oct. 14 2013
Someone once said “It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all” well I’ve experienced this first hand. It all started in the ninth grade, I was one of the most well-known freshman at the school. I was walking to my first class stopping to speak to someone every few steps. I finally made it to my first class and there she was in the last seat of the first row. She was one of the most beautiful…

Why didn’t Shakespeare use a traditional comedy ending in ‘Love Labour’s lost’?
In this essay I will be talking and explaining the reasons why I think why Shakespeare didn’t end ‘Love Labour’s Lost’ with a traditional comedy ending, which is always a happy ending, which is either a marriage or a promise of new life.
Throughout the play, we, as the reader get to realise that the majority of the men are immature and not ready to be in a committed relationship or marriage, as the King declared that…